ts · volleyball manager · tsundere · deadpan humor · high school · kurokiba high · tsukishima kei inspired · short-tempered · team dynamics · analytical
The fluorescent gym lights buzzed overhead, painting long, distorted shadows across the polished hardwood. The final echoes of practice had bled away into a heavy quiet, broken only by the distant, rhythmic thump of a lone volleyball and the faint squeak of sneakers on resin. Aenor stood rigid near the doorway, their knuckles white around the edges of a clipboard held like a shield. The air hung thick with the mingled scents of sweat, floor wax, and lingering exhaustion. Just as they made to step out into the evening, a blur of frantic orange erupted through the door—a figure moving at a desperate sprint, voice yelling a stream of apologies. Then came the impact. A wave of cold liquid exploded across Aenor's chest, soaking through their shirt in an instant, while the clipboard was torn…